You're a Giry
by oldschoollover
Summary: My take on what would have happened if Madame Giry hadn't caught Meg sneaking to the Phantom's lair after Christine was kidnapped. Based on the 2004 version. Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Thanks to Velvet Rose94 for the new cover photo! Description of the image in Chapter 11.
1. Discoveries

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Meg walked quietly into Christine's dressing room. It was dark; all the candles were off. But there was no Christine.

"Christine?" Meg whispered. She noticed a light coming from a crack in the mirror. She crept slowly towards it. A noise startled her and she turned her head sharply back, but there was no one there. She continued forward.

_A…door? _she thought. For indeed, it wasn't a crack in the mirror, there was light coming from _behind_ the mirror, like someone, in their haste, didn't shut the door properly. She slid the mirror door open and crept slowly inside. She slid the door shut and looked at the mirror. She could see Christine's dressing room.

_I'm inside the mirror?_

She walked through the corridors. The first one was lit up with torches, but the second, unfortunately, was pitch-black. She jumped and screamed when she saw rats. She was very frightened. _What kind of place is this?_

She felt her way along the walls, walking down the winding steps. She reached the end of it and saw there was a giant lake.

_Oh great_, she thought. _Now how am I supposed to get to there in this darkness?_

Meg decided the safest thing to do was to wait. After all, Christine supposedly never left her dressing room, but went missing. Raoul had said he heard a man's voice in the room, and the mirror was ajar. _Christine should be here. He can't keep her forever. Maybe she'll come back._ And with that thought in mind, she sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and, feeling suddenly exhausted, went to sleep.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg suddenly felt light near her eyes. She tiredly opened them. She saw fire. _No…a torch._ And a man holding the torch. A man with a mask and blazing, angry eyes that looked just a little fearful. Meg's own eyes widened and gasped, which turned into a choked gasp as the Phantom used his torch-free hand to haul Meg up by her neck with impossible strength, choking her. Meg knew that she was getting bruises. She struggled to breathe.

"Who are you?! How did you get here?!" the Phantom yelled. His grip on her throat tightened.

"Angel! Angel, stop! Don't do it! Put her down! That's my friend! That's Meg!" Christine yelled frantically.

_Angel…? The _Phantom_ is her Angel of Music? _Meg thought in wonder.

"Chris…tine…" Meg choked out, her eyes landing on her best friend's panicked ones.

The Phantom's grip on her throat loosened. His eyes widened and became fearful.

"Meg…._Giry?" _he whispered. He let go of her throat and Meg dropped to the ground, gasping and dry-heaving.

"Meg!" yelled Christine, clambering out of the boat. She crouched beside her friend and hugged her. Meg noticed she had her nightgown on, like she was dressed for bed.

"Oh, Meg," Christine sighed.

"_He's_….your Angel…of…Music?" Meg breathed out between pants. She looked up slowly into his eyes, which were filled with remorse and confusion.

"Let's go," he said firmly. He crouched down and lifted Meg, gently but firmly, to her feet, putting one of her arms around his shoulders, while Christine did the same with the other arm. Slowly, they made their way up the steps.

Christine wanted to ask her friend so many questions. How _did_ she get there in the first place? Where was Raoul? But she didn't think it wise to ask those questions in front of her Angel, (_no…the _Phantom), so she held her tongue, planning to ask her when they were alone.

They reached the corridor with the torches again. At the end of the corridor, in front of the transparent mirror, was Madame Giry, looking fearful and worried, walking slowly down the corridor. When she saw them, her fearful and worried eyes became angry as well. She rushed towards her daughter.

"Get off of her!" she yelled at the Phantom. She lifted Meg's arms from around the pair and hugged her.

"I was so worried." She looked at Christine. "For both of you. Neither of you were seen since last night and the Vicomte was talking about calling the police. But when he said he heard a _man's _voice," Madame Giry said with distaste, looking at the Phantom, "I knew where to look."

"How?" Both Meg and Christine said in unison, shocked.

Madame Giry looked uncomfortable now, feeling that she said too much. She let go of her daughter.

"What happened to you, Meg? Are those _bruises_?!" her inquiry turned into a fiery exclamation. Now she rounded on the Phantom.

"_You_ did this to her?! After all I've done for you?! _You_ did this?!" Her voice was becoming shrill.

"I swear, I didn't know who she was!" said the Phantom hurriedly. "I thought she was trying to find me out! But, you won't tell anyone where I live, will you Meg?" he now implored her. Meg turned to him in confusion.

"No," her mother answered for her, "No, she won't tell anyone. And neither will you, Christine. Come, let's go now. They're all very worried." Madame Giry grabbed both her daughter's and her adoptive daughter's hands and quickly walked towards the mirror. Both Meg and Christine gave the Phantom a backward glance, but he was already gone.


	2. Inquiries and Accusations

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Madame Giry slid the mirror open and hauled her girls inside. Both Meg and Christine looked confused and worried.

"How do you know him, Mother?" Meg asked frantically. "What's going on? Why were _you _in the mirror? Why was _Christine_ in the mirror? What's going on?"

"Hush, Meg. Now's not the time to explain. I must hurry. They need to know you've returned."

"I'll come with you!" implored Meg.

Madame Giry looked sadly at her daughter.

"Well…all right, if you really want to. But you have to get changed first."

"I'll come too!" offered Christine.

"No, Christine. You must rest. You've been through a lot last night. Come. We'll go to the girls dormitory now." Madame Giry started walking out, with Meg and Christine in her wake.

"Let's be as quiet as we can, now." said Madame Giry. For from behind her, both Meg and Christine were whispering frantically.

"How did you find me, Meg?" Christine whispered. "I thought no one could find me. No one came for me."

"Everyone was shouting about how you were missing. The Vicomte said the door was locked and he heard a man in there. I found the spare key to your dressing room in my mother's room and went back to investigate. The mirror was ajar. I came for you last night, Christine, but I couldn't get across the lake and I fell asleep! How did _you_ get in the mirror with _him_?"

"He sang to me," Christine explained, "and it was like I was hypnotized. He lured me towards the mirror and there was mist everywhere and his voice just seemed to pull me forward. I couldn't think. I took his hand. But later, I unmasked him."

"You did _what_?" Madame Giry's panicked whisper cut through their conversation as she turned around. Christine looked sheepish. She raised her arms in defeat.

"I was just curious. What kind of man hides his face behind a mask anyway? But what I saw was so horrifying and the Phantom lashed out at me because I unmasked him. That's when he decided to take me back up and that's when we found Meg, asleep against the wall."

"You must _never_ do that again," Madame Giry whispered firmly. "_Either_ of you. He let you slide once, Christine, but next time, he won't be so forgiving. Even with you, Meg."

"He was choking me, Mother!" came Meg's exclaimed whisper, "He only stopped choking me when Christine said my name. It was like he recognized me. And you seem to have a connection to him! What's going on, Mother?! Please tell us!"

"Not now, Meg! I promised never to tell!"

"But you owe us an explanation!"

"I'll explain everything in due time, but right now, we need to go see our managers." Madame Giry had reached the door of the bedroom and, unlocking it, proceeded to step inside. She turned around.

"Get changed, Meg. I'll wait for you outside the door. Christine, you must rest. No offense, Meg," she said, turning to her daughter, "but as Christine vanished first, no one noticed when you disappeared. I don't think Christine wants to be bombarded with questions from everyone right now. Besides, I'll give them this note," she held up an envelope with a red skull seal on the back, "It will explain everything."

"Did _he_ give that to you?!" Meg exclaimed, aghast, "You've been exchanging _notes_ with him?!"

"I told you, I'll explain everything in due time." said Madame Giry tiredly. "I'll be outside." and with that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

Christine sat on the bed, looking pale. Meg furiously got her clothes and started putting them on.

"I can't _believe_ this!" she said angrily. "They have _connections_?! And she never told _anyone_! She never told _me_!"

"She did say she promised, Meg." said Christine quietly.

"I think this secret is worth breaking a little promise! Why would she do it?"

"He seems to fear her," said Christine, now pensive. "Like he respects her."

"I wish I knew what was going on," Meg said tiredly, sighing.

"You're not the only one," said Christine dejectedly, also sighing.

Meg finished dressing.

"Well, I'll go now. You stay here, Christine. This must be even more confusing for you," she said, not without sympathy. "You need to rest. Mother and I will explain everything." she gave her friend a little smile.

"Ok, Meg." said Christine, suddenly feeling tired. She lay back in bed. "See you later."


	3. Damnation

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Meg and Madame Giry gave the managers the note. Now, they were getting ready for the new production of Il Muto, with Carlotta as the lead, despite the Phantom's warning. Christine was playing the silent role. She seemed a little sad about it, but very content with it, as if another go at being the lead with Carlotta second best would make her fall ill. The whole opera was going smoothly.

As the opera was going on, Meg noticed two black-gloved hands switch one perfume bottle with another. _Is it…him?_ she thought fearfully. The opera continued without any problems.

"Poor fool, he doesn't know. Ho ho ho ho ho!" Carlotta and the cast sang operatically. "Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho! Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho! If he knew the truth he'd never ever go!"

"DID I NOT INSTRUCT," came a booming voice from above, "THAT BOX FIVE WITH TO BE KEPT EMPTY?!"

Everyone looked around in confusion and panic.

"It's him. The Phantom of the Opera." Meg said.

"It's him." Christine said quietly, looking up towards where the Phantom's voice was before.

"You're part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta rudely told Christine. For some reason, Meg got a bad feeling about Carlotta's comment.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg and the other girls were dancing the ballet of Act Three. Carlotta had croaked like the toad she had called Christine and, as a result, Christine and Carlotta were now switching roles. Meg was focused on her dancing, determined that the show should go on.

A shadow seemed to fall above them and some people screamed. Meg looked up and screamed with the rest of them. For, there was the sad body of Buquet, who had not listened to her Mother's dire warning: keep your hand at the level of your eyes. Meg screamed and screamed as the body dropped to the floor and hit the stage with a thud. Meg cowered in the corner along with the other dancers.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" came the panicked voice of Firmin, "Please, remain in your seats! It was an accident, simply an accident! An accident!"

Everyone was screaming and running around. Meg screamed and quickly backed away from the body. She started crying and screaming and calling out for her mother. She backed up until she was off stage, then she felt a sharp pain against her head and everything went black and silent as she collapsed.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg woke up, feeling dizzy and groggy. Her head was throbbing and really hurt. Meg groaned a little. She opened her eyes more. A little monkey box in Persian robes was softly playing the cymbals. It was a soothing tune. Meg sat up a little, feeling nauseous and even more dizzy as the throbbing in her head increased. She was still in her costume from last night. It all came back to her now. Buquet's body, dangling from above, the thud as it hit the ground, everyone screaming, her screaming, everything going black.

_What happened last night?_ she thought.

She examined her surroundings. She was in a curved sort of bed with a pink blanket on it, surrounded by an assortment of miscellaneous items that seemed to have been collected over the years. A black curtain was a makeshift door for the bedroom. Slowly, she got out of bed and pulled back the curtain.

Candles. Everywhere, there were candles. And there was a lake. And a boat.

_Christine!_ Meg realized suddenly, _She was on a boat! And I couldn't get to her because of the lake in the way!_ _And there was that man…._

Meg slowly turned her head right. There he was, _that_ man, playing his organ softly, all dressed in black, with his white mask on. Meg suppressed a groan and her confusion. She slowly looked left again. A gate was closing off the lair from the rest of the lake, sealing her in, blocking her escape.

_Damn_, she thought. She slowly looked right again. Near the Phantom, there was a lever.

_I'll bet anything that lever is for the gate_. Not that she knew what she was going to do when that gate creaked open or if the lever would work at all. She slowly crept forward, desperately trying to be as quiet as possible. She glanced something white. She turned her head. A dummy of Christine stared at her in a wedding dress. She flinched, trying not to jump. _He's insane. _Step by step, she reached the lever. Slowly, she reached out her right hand toward it—

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came a voice from behind her. Meg jumped and squeaked. She turned around. He was still facing his organ, but his fingers had stopped moving.

"Why have you brought me here?!" she demanded, suddenly angry, "What? It wasn't enough to abduct Christine?! You just had to abduct me too, didn't you?!" She was fuming. "So, Buquet's death _wasn't _an accident?! It was all a ploy to _kidnap _me—?!"

"Be quiet, will you?!" snapped the Phantom. He stood up quickly and turned around to face her. Meg flinched but held her ground.

"If you _must _know, his death wasn't an accident, but I only killed him because he was trying to find me out." the Phantom informed her. Meg was suddenly fearful. She was suddenly reminded of his words to her mother: "_I swear, I didn't know who she was! I thought she was trying to find me out!_" Meg repressed a shudder.

"Then why _did_ you kidnap me?" said Meg, a little quieter.

"Because of a note your mother sent me," said the Phantom, brandishing said note. "You see, she sent me a note saying that Christine would no longer be assigned to that dressing room, as she said she would do everything in her power to have it changed, to keep her and you safe. I replied, stating I would do everything in my power to stop her if she dare try. She did it anyway. She had no idea what I was planning."

"So, you're holding me _hostage_?!" she shouted.

"Yes. And I would have released you when you woke up, because your mother changed the dressing room did, if not for what Christine did.

"Which was…?" asked Meg in wonderment.

"She got engaged to that insolent, foppish, _Vicomte_ _de Changy_." he said with utter distaste in her voice.

Meg was shocked.

"How do you know?"

"Because I was watching them on the rooftop."

"You stalker! That's so creepy! Why do you care who she marries anyway?

The Phantom looked at her as if she was stupid.

Meg suddenly remembered the wedding dress. She gasped and pointed a trembling finger at him accusingly.

"You…_love_ her?" she exclaimed.

"And I will keep you here until she breaks off their engagement and proves her love to me."

"But that will never happen! She loves him!"

"Then you and I will have plenty of time to get to know one another," he said dryly.

"But…but….but my mother! She wouldn't just _leave_ me here with the likes of _you_!" she stuttered and spat out.

"I made her promise me never to come near my lair again, after she got me settled in when we first met. And after you were born and she came close to my lair, or close to ratting me out, I swore I would kill you if she betrayed me."

"So, you're going to kill me if she tries to rescue me, when she did all of this to help protect me in the first place?"

The Phantom smirked.

"Ironic, isn't it?" he stated.

Meg was trembling now. She was very frightened.

"You-you can't do this to me!" she tried to sound brave.

"It seems I already have," said the Phantom simply.

Meg was trembling even harder now. She grabbed her head and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at it. She started pacing back and forth. The Phantom watched her serenely. He seemed to get bored with her. He turned around, sat back down at his organ, and started playing a soft tune, completely engrossed.

There was a creaking sound. The Phantom turned around. Meg had pulled the lever. She was frantically running through the water, trying to get to the exit. The water was hindering her escape, and she struggled through it. She was halfway there.

She felt a hand on the back of her dress, which yanked her back so hard, she thought the dress might rip. She half-hoped it would, so she could have more time to run. She struggled against the hand pulling her back through the water, yelling and screaming and growling along the way. She twisted and turned and even tried to knee him in the groin at one point, but the Phantom was too fast for her. He grabbed the offending knee with his other hand and slammed her down on her side. She yelped as her head made contact with the ground. She was going to have a _major_ headache. He pressed her down on the ground with his hands, making her lose circulation in her right arm.

"God…damn you," she spat out, glaring at him, her eyes filled with hatred.

The Phantom's eyes were filled with dark humor.

"Don't you know, my dear Miss Giry? I've been damned from the very beginning."


	4. Realizations

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Madame Giry made her way to Christine's dressing room. She had desperately tried to switch her dressing room with another, and, even though the Phantom had threatened her, she had done it anyway. The next morning, she had gotten a note that he held her daughter hostage and left her instructions to get her back. Knowing what she must do, she ran as fast as she could in the early in the morning to get her dressing room switched. She had explained and apologized to Christine for this, but Christine completely understood, knowing that the safety of her friend was worth anything. Now, here it was, a day later, and Meg hadn't returned. She had even sent the Phantom multiple notes, to which he'd replied to none.

Now, Madame Giry was worried. She wanted to talk to Christine to see if Meg had returned. She knocked on the door and opened it. Christine was sitting at her vanity table, examining another rose. This rose was different though. In fact, it was only a stem. The entire _rose_ part of it appeared to have been crushed or chopped off, yet it still had the black ribbon on it. She turned to look at her.

"Have you heard anything?" Christine asked.

"I was just about to ask you that." Madame Giry sighed. "No news then?"

"No," Christine said with frustration. "Your note said he would return her and she's still not back yet! What's keeping him?!"

But Madame Giry wasn't looking at her adoptive daughter anymore. She was looking at the rose stem. Something about it caught her eye, but she wasn't sure what it was.

Christine followed her gaze. "What is it?"

Madame Giry squinted and bent down to more closely examine the rose stem.

"When did you get this rose?" she asked.

"Just this morning before you came in. I found it on the floor in front of the mirror. It was covered in snow…" Christine trailed off. Her eyes widened and she blanched. She looked sickly. She flung the rose stem on the table and eyed it as if it might explode.

Madame Giry watched Christine with worry. "What is it, Christine?"

"Last night, after Buquet's death," Christine said slowly, "I took the rose from my dressing room, ran to Raoul, and brought him to the roof. I thought it would be the safest place to talk to him. It was snowing outside. I remember dropping the rose, but I didn't think to pick it back up. I'm almost certain I didn't step on it." Now Christine turned to Madame Giry.

"Even if I did step on it, part of the flower would still be there. And how would he know it was there anyway? Unless…" Christine gasped and clutched at her heart, paling even more. She stood up and began pacing the room. Madame Giry watched her in worry and confusion.

"He knows," Christine said, not stopping her pacing. "I don't know how, but he knows."

"Knows what?"

Christine stopped pacing and addressed her.

"When I was on the rooftop, Raoul and I became engaged."

Madame Giry was surprised. She didn't know Christine and the patron had such an attachment to each other.

Christine went on.

"When I went to his lair that night, I had fainted because I saw a dummy of me in a wedding dress. And now, I'm engaged to another man. The Vicomte de Changy. The one he had already called 'insolent'."

Madame Giry understood now. She gasped.

"He loves you," she said, "and this was considered a betrayal. Now he won't let her go. Unless you break it off."

"I'll have to," replied Christine, "But if I tell Raoul the reason, he'll insist on charging forward into the lair to rescue her. And then she'll die."

"Then you either have to stop him from charging there, or make the Opera Ghost believe that you don't love the Vicomte anymore."

"He'll never believe it," said Christine, "but I'll tell Raoul we'll break off the engagement, before this gets around." She walked towards the door. "I have to go find him." and with that, she left the room.

Madame Giry stared at the door through which Christine had just exited, her eyes filled with worry.

"Well done, Antoinette, you figured it out," came a voice that seemed to resonate from all corners of the room.

"Yes, Erik, we did," said Madame Giry simply, not taking her eyes off the door. "How could you be so cruel? After all that I've done for you, this is how you repay me? This is madness!"

"I promise, I won't harm her, Antoinette, unless, of course, she tries to escape."

Madame Giry hunched her shoulders a little and frowned.

"She and Christine are the world to me, yet you can't win without hurting both of them."

"Yes, that is the way of the world. You, of all people, should know that this world is a cruel one."

"I thought I did a good deed, rescuing you from your cruel circus life," Madame Giry said sadly, "Now, I don't even know anymore."

"You should be grateful I haven't killed her yet. She already tried to escape once. Don't worry," the Phantom added hurriedly as Madame Giry let out a gasp and turned around, "No lasting harm was done. I must go now, Madame. I must check on your daughter, and check on Christine, and check on my managers, and check on the _Vicomte_. I need a check list." And with that, the Phantom's presence seemed to melt away.

Madame Giry sank to her knees, holding her head, praying. _Oh, Meg, _she thought desperately, _what have I done?_


	5. Please Bathe

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Meg had run back to the little bedroom and cried and cursed and screamed and damned him until she fell asleep that night. She had refused to eat, drink, move, or change into the extra clothes that the Phantom had suggested she'd wear. At first, crying and screaming felt good, but after a while, she felt more dizzy and nauseous. She had continued screaming even when the Phantom had gone up to the surface for a while. Her screams had then turned into pleading and whimpers, and she had whimpered and cried even in her dreams.

Now Meg woke up feeling like she had a hangover. She felt as if her eyes were glued shut and it was physical exercise trying to wrench them open. She still felt dizzy and even more nauseous now that she had cried and cried and hadn't eaten anything in over a day. She was also parched. She groaned and rolled over and felt something cold under her head. She realized it was a bag of ice that the Phantom had put on her head sometime when she was asleep. Meg was surprised and grateful for the gesture.

Slowly, she sat up, clutching the ice pack to her head. At the foot of her bed, there was a large assortment of hors d' oeuvres and a glass of water. Meg didn't know where he had gotten the water from. She suspected it was from the filthy lake water, despite its clean appearance. Meg decided against drinking it, no matter how thirsty she was, lest it be poisonous.

Next to the food, there was an outfit lain out for her. Black pants and black boots and a white, poofy shirt with frills at the collar. On top of this pile a hairbrush and a note, addressed _Miss Giry _in fancy script she could hardly read. She opened the note. It read:

_Dear Miss Giry,_

_We seemed to have gotten off to a bad start. I left you some food and water and some clothes to change into because you're filthy and the stench is sickening._ ("Gee, thanks," Meg said out loud.)_ The washroom door is behind the organ. May I suggest you take a bath? You need it._ ("Don't hold anything back, Phantom. Tell me how you _really_ feel," she said, dripping sarcasm.)_ After all, you're staying here a while and it's doing no good for either of us if you don't take care of yourself._ _Do it for your mother, will you? She's worried._ ("Gee, I wonder why? It couldn't be because you brought me here against my will and gave me all these bruises.") _I've gone up above to collect my monthly salary. I'm also keeping my ears open for any news about the engagement. Believe me, I want to get rid of you as fast as I can._

_Yours Truly,_

_O.G._

_P.S. No, the water is not from the lake._

Meg half-smiled at that. He knew her well. Her smile disappeared as the thought suddenly scared her. She dropped the note beside her on the bed and stood up. Spots appeared before her eyes. Meg, resisting the urge to shake her head to clear them, blinked her eyes until her vision cleared. Her stomach grumbled. Slowly, she made her way to one of the mirrors outside the bedroom and examined her appearance. She was shocked. Her costume from _Il Muto_ was dirty, torn, and wrinkled. Her makeup had smeared all over hear face and had dribbled down her face in some places where she had cried, leaving stains on her neck and costume. Following the dribbling makeup, she examined her bruises. The makeup from the performance had covered them up, but now that it was fading away, she could clearly see finger-shaped bruises that were now turning brown and yellow. She looked at her hair. It was a mess. It was tangled and dirty. It had been in the lake water and it felt dry and stiff. It was all over her face. Her eyes, Meg noticed, were red-rimmed, with dark circles under her eyes and had a wild and crazed look about them.

Meg smirked, imagining the managers' and Carlotta's faces if she returned to the surface looking like this. 'Course, they probably didn't even realize she was missing. She was just a dancer, anyway. They can be replaced. Meg sighed, thinking what Christine and her mother would think or do if they saw her like this. _Well, let them see me like this_, she thought firmly, _then they'll know what he put me through. _She smelled an foul smell all of a sudden. She lifted up her arm and gagged. _He was lying_, she thought wryly.

_Let me sit here in my filth! That'll show him!_ she thought with grim satisfaction, _He should suffer as much as I have to!_

She walked past the mirrors and found a desk. Some roses with black ribbons were there, along with sketches of Christine and wax dolls of the performers in recent operas. On closer inspection, her eyes landed on the most recent of the operas: _Il Muto_. Meg noticed that, though Christine was made into a page boy doll and Carlotta was made into a Countess doll, the Phantom had switched the heads, so the page boy was wearing a headdress, while the Countess was without. There was ink and a stamp on the table.

_This must be where he seals all of his notes_, she concluded.

Meg walked over to the organ. On the music holder, the _Il Muto_ music was there. _Geez, he's obsessed with that opera._ Next to it was the music from _Faust_. Was he planning to make that the next opera? She didn't recognize any of the songs. Next to this, was a sheet of parchment with some notes and lyrics under it. There was no title to the song. She sat down at the organ and played a few keys. She startled herself. It was so loud! _How could he ever play this softly? _she wondered.

She wasn't very good at playing the piano, but her mother and Christine had taught her to read music. She began singing the words softly:

_Your eyes see but my shadow_ (testing the notes of the organ as she went). _My heart is overflowing. There's so much you could come to know. You're content with not knowing. Tenderly, you could see my soul. _

Meg realized she had begun to sing louder as she went on. She began humming, playing the keys as softly as she could.

"Not bad," said a voice from behind her, startling her. She jumped and yelped and stood up so quickly from the seat that she banged her knee on the organ. She cursed and turn around quickly.

The Phantom was standing there, watching her approvingly. He walked slowly towards the organ. She side-stepped him and backed away from the organ. He examined the music sheet and the organ.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered out, "I-I was bored and you were away and what was I supposed to do?!" she ended defensively, standing up straighter.

He looked at her. "You could bathe, for starters."

She glared at him.

He studied her for a few moments. She felt uncomfortable but held his gaze.

"I never knew you could sing, or had any talent besides dancing for that matter."

"Why would you? You didn't even know I existed." she stated matter-of-factly.

"I actually met you when you were about two years old. You've grown since then."

_Really? I hadn't noticed_, she thought.

"Can I see your face?" she blurted out, hoping to change the subject. She was curious, anyway.

His whole complexion darkened and his eyes narrowed.

"The last person to see my face was Christine and she was horrified by it."

"According to Christine, she didn't have time to register your face before you knocked her to the ground and started screaming at her," she countered.

"_According to Christine,_" he mimicked, "on the rooftop with that fop, my face is hardly a face."

"I'll make you a deal," she offered, "if I scream at the sight of your face, I'll bathe,"

The Phantom looked amused. He studied her a moment more, then sighed and lifted his mask.

Meg's eyes widened. She had never seen anything like it. Yet, when she compared that side of his face to the other side, she determined the deformity wasn't that bad. The worst part about it was that bubbling flesh thing going on around the ear, or that weird lip thing going on.

She went over to him slowly. He looked at her in confusion, probably wondering why she wasn't screaming, but held his ground. She lifted a hand to his face, feeling the deformity. It was a little disgusting, but she repressed a shudder. With the other hand, she found the seam of his wig, (she realized upon closer inspection that it was a wig), and pulled it off, exposing his natural blond hair. He looked young, but he was balding. She looked at his deformity again then into his eyes.

"It's not that bad," she confirmed. The Phantom snorted.

"Seriously. It just looked like some bits of your flesh bubbled up a bit, and while that's highly unattractive and disgusting, it's not the worst thing I've seen in the world. The true distortion lies in your soul, not on your face."

The Phantom turned away from her. "You don't count," he said, "You're a Giry."

Now Meg was frustrated. Though a bath, in truth, did sound nice, the deal was that she would see his face and wouldn't scream. Now she didn't _count_? That was worse than not knowing she existed!

"That's not fair! Of course I count! And yes, life isn't fair, but don't reject one of the only people that didn't vomit at the sight of your disgusting face! C'mon, Erik! Think—!"

Her argument was cut short by the Phantom wheeling around and grabbing her throat with his right hand. She choked and gasped and stuttered. He pulled her towards him. His eyes were blazing.

"_Never_ call me that! _NEVER!_" he growled, "_How_ did you know my name, anyway?! _WELL?!_"

Meg gripped the hand that was choking her with both of her own, trying to pry the fingers loose, but no matter how hard she pulled, they wouldn't budge. She was getting spots in her vision, yet she refused to look away from his eyes. _Now_ he looked truly frightening with his deformity, his anger emanating off of him like heat from a ferocious fire, his eyes black pits with barely-contained fire raging inside of them.

Just as Meg feared she would pass out, the Phantom's grip on her loosened. She started to gasp in air. "Of course," he said with sudden realization. He released his grip entirely from her neck. She dropped to the ground, gasping and coughing, sucking in so much air, she was becoming light-headed. _Not…more…bruises…_she thought wearily.

"You're a Giry," the Phantom concluded, and with that, he turned his back to her, sat down at his organ, and began to play a melody.


	6. Preparations

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Madame Giry was sitting in her room, reading her notes, when a knock came at the door. She looked up as Christine entered.

"It's done," Christine said solemnly. "I broke it off."

Madame Giry was saddened for her loss, but relieved by what it meant for her daughter.

"I'll write a note to him, telling him of your decision." she began to write.

Christine was about to add that she would find a way to marry him in the future if she could, but stopped herself because she didn't know for sure if she was truly alone with Madame Giry.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Christine was sleeping in her bed, when she felt a nudge at her shoulder.

"Christine," came Madame Giry's urgent voice, "I have his reply."

Christine sat up straight now, wide awake. "What did he say?"

"Let's go to my room first."

When they arrived at her room a few minutes later, Madame Giry quickly shut the door behind Christine and herself. Christine couldn't keep from pacing the room.

"He says," began Madame Giry, "that he hopes what you say is true…."

_Dear Madame Giry,_

_ I hope what Christine says is true, for if not, it will be disastrous for her friend. She has been in my care for a while now and she's an absolute burden to me. She refuses to bathe, eat, or drink, so I have to physically make her at least drink water each night. It's so tiresome! I'm eager to get her back to you, as this is has become a punishment for all of us. The masquerade ball is coming soon. I will come to the surface and get her a dress and a mask. If all goes well at the ball, and I find no betrayal, she will mercifully be returned to your care. I remain, Madame, your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

Madame Giry and Christine laughed a little at that.

"That's Meg for you," they both said.

"I'm glad she's being stubborn," Christine said.

"I am too," agreed Madame Giry, "that'll show the Phantom that he's not completely in control. I just hope Meg starts to eat and drink soon. She's probably not healthy now. I hope she's alright."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," reassured Christine, "She's very strong." On a sudden impulse, she went over to Madame Giry and hugged her. Madame Giry was shocked, but hugged her back.

"I'm so sorry all of this happened," Christine said to her regretfully, "If I had listened to Raoul and gone to dinner with him, none of this would have happened."

"You had no choice," countered Madame Giry, "If only I had thought to go into the mirror the night you went missing, I might have been able to stop her when she was on her way down there,"

"But if I hadn't said her name, just called her 'my friend', he wouldn't have thought to abduct her later,"

"No good is coming from putting blame on ourselves. It's nobody's fault. Let's just hope all goes well at the masquerade ball."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg was still refusing to bathe, eat, or drink, so much so that the Phantom had to force feed her water every night, so it could at least look like he was taking _some_ care of her. She struggled and screamed that it was poisonous, but no matter how much she resisted, the Phantom would succeed in making her swallow a decent amount of water, before she'd spit the rest out in defiance. This had been their nightly ritual for a few weeks now.

Meg was playing the organ again. She had gotten a little better at it, as she had been practicing every day to keep herself from sheer boredom. She had rejected the Phantom's constant offers to teach her to sing and play better; she didn't want to be Christine and have him obsessing over _her_ as well. She could hardly handle being prisoner, being an obsession would definitely be way too much.

The Phantom had gone up above again. Meg played the organ again. Over the past weeks, the Phantom had written an opera: _Don Juan Triumphant_. Meg had played and sang a little of it. It was a dark, sensual piece of work, and it made sense, in a sickening sort of way, that the Phantom had cast Christine as the main role. _He'll probably wish he was Piangi as he's watching his opera go on_, she thought humorlessly.

_No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy_.

_No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love._

Suddenly there was a hand upon her right hand, stopping her playing. She yelped and jumped as it happened, cursing herself for not getting used to his sneaky ways.

"I'd hate to interrupt you," said the Phantom, half-sincerely, "but I got you a present."

Before Meg could turn to look at him warily, his left hand put a dress and a mask on her lap.

"The masquerade?" Meg asked in surprise. She was conscious that the Phantom hadn't removed the hand that was on top of her right hand, nor had he removed his left hand from the dress or the mask. He was positively leaning over her. She felt a foreboding sense of being trapped. She stiffened.

If the Phantom noticed this, he gave no sign. "I'm going to deliver you to your mother before the masquerade begins, " came the voice above her head, his voice lowering, "You will have the chance to see your mother and Christine again. You must keep the mask on, lest people will know who you are and ask questions about you. If all goes well tonight, I won't have to take you back here," he added. Meg sensed the threat of his words hanging in the air. Meg didn't move or speak.

His grip on her right hand tightened for a second then he pushed off of her. Meg held her breath to prevent a sigh of relief from escaping.

"I'm going to present to my managers _Don Juan Triumphant_ tonight. It is a very special occasion. You _must _bathe tonight. Get rid of all your grime and filth or else I will scrub you clean myself."

Meg gagged, not repressing the offending sound. The Phantom's smirk went unseen.

"If you wouldn't mind, Meg, I have to make some finishing touches to my masterpiece, so if you wouldn't mind…" he trailed off.

Meg pushed the stool back and got up slowly. "I'll be out in a bit," and, taking the mask and the dress, she went in the washroom and closed the door.

It was a nice bathroom, as far as they go. The Phantom had obviously treated himself well with his ridiculous salary. Meg didn't particularly want to bathe in her filth, so she scrubbed her face and her body before hand, using the mirror as an aid. In her denial, she hadn't washed off the makeup from _Il Muto_, and now it had crusted and caked into her skin. Meg was secretly relieved to have good motivation to take a bath. She had hated feeling filthy.

With each scrub, the old makeup slowly faded away. Meg hadn't realized how stiff her face had felt with it on; with it off, she felt free suddenly. She scrubbed at the makeup on her neck too, revealing her bruises. The ones from the first time she met were gone now, and the ones from before were only visible if she knew what she was looking for. Meg was glad she couldn't see them. It would only be a reminder of his fingers around her throat. Meg put a hand to her throat and sighed.

She stripped of her clothes and took a bath, feeling cleaner by the second, using the most floral soaps to wash her body and her hair. The water was becoming dirty. _Ew, that was _on_ me?!_ she thought in revulsion.

The dress fit perfectly. Meg grabbed the hairbrush that was on the sink and began brushing and towel-drying her hair simultaneously. The only complaint about this dress was that it was a little low cut for her taste. _At least next to nobody won't know who I am with it on_.

She left her costume in a heap on the floor, wondering if the Phantom might burn them in her sleep. She put the mask on and left the bathroom.

The Phantom himself wasn't dressed for the masquerade. _How is he getting his opera there if he's not coming?_ she wondered. He looked at her with satisfaction.

"Now you actually appear human," She glared at him. He laughed a little.

"Come," he said forcefully. "We must leave now," He turned and walked over to the boat. Meg followed behind him.

He took her hand to help her into the boat, when he did a small double take. He eyed the fading bruise on her neck thoughtfully for a moment, then sighed and helped her into the boat. Then he got into the boat himself with perfected ease and off they went.


	7. Not a Crime

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

The Phantom had secretly brought Meg to her mother's room. Madame Giry was sitting at her desk with her dress on and a giant fan. When her mother saw her, she ran up to her daughter and embraced her tightly. She then looked at the Phantom.

"Thank you for returning her to me,"

"It may only be temporary. You never know," he warned her, though his eyes seemed to soften a little as he looked into Madame Giry's watery ones. With a swish of his cape he left the room.

Madame Giry let go of her daughter, looked her up and down, and gave a small smile.

"You seem fairly unharmed, though you do look a little thinner. Erik included in his note that you were so stubborn as to not eat or bathe!"

"He was all like, 'the stench is revolting!'" Meg laughed, "I wanted to use that as payback for abducting me. I did practice the organ a bit when I was there. He kept offering me singing and piano lessons, to which I kept refusing." Meg's eyes widened suddenly. "Mother, Erik wrote an—"

"As important as that is, Meg, right now, we have to go join the others. They'll wonder where I am."

"Do they ever ask about me?" Meg pleaded.

Madame Giry's eyes softened. "They do, Meg. They say, 'Ah, Madame Giry! Where is that daughter of yours! She hasn't been here lately!' I tell them, 'She's gone away for a while, but she'll hopefully be back soon.'"

Meg sighed. "I really hope it all goes well tonight."

Madame Giry put her hand on her daughter's shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Meg. Christine broke off the engagement. That was the one thing keeping you there. Let's just enjoy ourselves a little tonight."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Christine was waiting near the pillars looking for Raoul when she saw him run up to her excitedly. She smiled at him.

"There you are!" she said. He hugged her.

"Raoul, please don't do that. They'll see."

Raoul didn't seem to hear her.

"I got you something," he said. He pulled out a chain from his pocket, and on that chain was an engagement ring.

"Raoul, we can't!" Christine exclaimed in horror. _I promised Madame Giry that we broke it off to get Meg back!_

"No one will see," promised Raoul. He went up behind her, lifted up her hair, and put the chain around her neck. "It sits in your cleavage, anyway."

Christine laughed a little and wacked his arm playfully, "You dog."

Raoul grinned at her, "This is exciting! A secret engagement!"

"Yes," agreed Christine readily, "Think of it!" she said with enthusiasm, forgetting for a moment what was at stake, "A secret engagement! Look, your future bride! Just think of it!"

"But why is it secret?" Raoul implored her, "What have we to hide? You promised me…" He trailed off as he leaned in for a kiss. Christine quickly broke it, remembering Meg.

"No, Raoul, please don't; they'll see," said Christine fearfully.

"Well, then let them see!" proclaimed Raoul in a huff, "It's an engagement, not a crime! Christine, what are you afraid of?"

_So many things, Raoul,_ she thought sadly,_ so many things._

"Let's not argue," she said quickly, "Please pretend. You will understand in time."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg hung around with her mother, watching everyone dance. She had danced a bit with her mother, but she was more than a little worried. _What if something goes wrong?_ she mused worriedly.

She tried to talk to Christine, for Erik had said she could, but it was as if she and Raoul were attached to the hip and she didn't want to risk him seeing her. She mostly focused on her mother, chatting with her, laughing with her, and dancing with her.

Someone screamed, then that scream was followed by more screams. The lights seemed to darken and the music went off. Meg and Madame Giry turned around quickly, both gasping. It was _him_! He _had_ decided to come to the masquerade after all! He was dressed all in red, with a skull mask and pitch black eye shadow that seemed to give his eyes a hollowed-out look, like he really had only a skull for his face.

He seemed to walk through the crowd with confidence, knowing that he was making fearful and reveling in it. He asked everyone questions. He threw _Don Juan Triumphant_ down on the floor. He gave orders. He brandished a sword. He turned to Christine and beckoned her towards him with open arms.

Meg looked towards Christine. She was alone now. _Where did Raoul go?_ Christine appeared totally entranced as she slowly walked towards him. Meg could now imagine Christine as she walked through the mirror when he first appeared to her. She wanted to call out to Christine to stop her, but she didn't dare speak.

Erik had met Christine halfway on the steps. They looked slowly into each other's eyes. Then his gaze lowered to her chest and he pulled a chain off of her neck.

"You're chains are still mine!" he bellowed, "You belong to me!" and with that, he ran up the steps and, with one last look at Christine, he disappeared into the floor, fire illuminating his hollow eyes. Everyone gasped and screamed. Raoul suddenly appeared, jumping into the hole after him. There was a slamming sound. Meg presumed the hole had slammed shut.

Her mother grabbed her hand fearfully. "The engagement wasn't broken off!" she yelled, turning to her. Everyone was yelling, so no one could hear their conversation, "He's feeling betrayed!"

Meg was very frightened now, "What are we going to do?"

Madame Giry looked regretful, "You must go back to him!"

Meg wanted to argue, but Madame Giry was already pulling her away from the mass of people. "Please do this!" she pleaded, "or he may come for you later and hurt you terribly!"

"Ok, but where are we going?" Madame Giry was leading her through some doors and down sets of stairs. She opened another door and Meg saw a circular room of mirrors. Raoul was there, waving his sword around, trying to attack Erik's reflection. A noose came down and Meg was lost in a swirling red cape.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg couldn't see. Erik had his arm around her and was leading her through several doors and hallways. She heard something slide open and close again. She must be inside the mirror. She recognized the torches around the corridor. She ran down the stairs a few times, struggling to keep up with him. She continued to trip down them and on his cape, infuriating him. He let out an enraged noise and threw her over his shoulder. She let out a yelp of fright now. She had never seen him so upset.

He dumped her unceremoniously into the boat and steered it furiously. He had his eyes focused forward. Meg avoided his face.

When the gate had opened, Erik didn't even wait 'til he reached the ground. He jumped out of the boat and stormed to his organ, playing furiously. Meg was still in the boat, watching fearfully, not daring to get out of it.

"Erik, please, she meant no harm—"

Erik slammed on the keys with such force that the whole place shook. He rounded on her, his eyes filled with vengeful fire.

"DIDN'T I TELL YOU NEVER TO CALL ME THAT AGAIN?!" he boomed. He stormed towards her now. Meg paled and was too frightened to move. When her mother had called the Phantom by his real name, she had forgotten she wasn't supposed to address him like that.

The Phantom reached down for her throat with his right hand. Meg tried to block the attack out of reflex by extending her hand at the offending hand. As a result, the Phantom bent her wrist backward painfully and yanked her out of the water, dragging her up to the organ. She felt her knees scraping against the stone.

"DON'T EVER CALL ME THAT! DON'T _EVER! _ THAT MAN IS _DEAD_! I AM THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA AND I SHALL KEEP YOU HERE _FOREVER_! Christine doesn't seem to care much for your well-being, does she? DOES SHE?!"

Meg's voice seemed to have lodged somewhere in her throat, as if he really was choking her. He squeezed her hand impossibly tighter and bent her wrist farther backward. She winced.

"WELL?!" he demanded of her. Meg didn't know what to say.

"Sh-she m-m-meant no h-h-harm…" she managed to stutter out.

"HA!" the Phantom said derisively, throwing her hand aside. The force of his throw threw her to the ground. Her wrist was throbbing painfully. _Bruises hate me_, she thought.

"That deceiving little…" He didn't seem to find the right words for her. "She _and _ your mother…"

"No!" Meg said suddenly, finding her voice. The Phantom turned to her and glared at her threateningly.

"My mother really did believe the engagement was broken off, honest!" Meg pleaded, "She said nothing could go wrong because the engagement was broken off! She was sure I'd be there to stay! And when you disappeared, she was as shocked as you that the engagement wasn't broken off! She feared for my life and for the lives of others! She brought me down to you so you wouldn't come after me later! She really didn't know anything!" Meg was panicking.

He studied her for a moment, then turned his back on her and sat down at his organ in a huff.

"Get out of my sight, _Miss Giry_," he said with utter loathing. Meg didn't need to be told twice. She ran up the steps and towards the bedroom, but not before she glanced at the bridal Christine dummy.

_Oh, Christine,_ Meg thought sadly as she pulled the curtain behind her with her good hand, _Why?!i_


	8. Dear Erik

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Meg was too terrified to go to sleep that night. What if he took his anger out on her while she lay sleeping? Besides, even if she wanted to sleep, she wouldn't be able to, for the Phantom continued to play the organ loudly 'til the early hours of the morning. Meg crouched next to the desk with the monkey box, covered one ear with her good hand, pulled her scraped knees up to her chest, and ducked her head, trembling. The music itself was an ear-shattering dirge that Meg wondered why her ears hadn't bled and fallen off. She was also still shaken up from the Phantom's treatment of her when she had returned to him. Her wrist was still throbbing painfully.

_How could everything have gone so wrong?_ she wondered desperately. She would have cried, but she was too afraid to. What if the Phantom came in suddenly and found her crying on the floor. He might choke her! Meg was trembling so hard that her teeth began to chatter. She felt cold all over. The monkey box played a melodic tune above her. It swept over her, like the center of calm in the eye of the storm. Meg slowly began to stop trembling as exhaustion took hold of her and she fell asleep against the desk.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg felt something cold on her and she gasped and jumped, eyes wide open. She met the Phantom's gaze, his eyes slightly startled and regretful.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to wake you." She was in the bed, which seemed to have become _her_ bed over the passing weeks. She was still in her dress and mask from the night before. The Phantom sat at the foot of her bed, gently holding a bag of ice to her now-swollen wrist. Her throbbed in pain. Meg was conscious of two bandages wrapped around each of her scraped knees. She looked at him in shock, saying nothing, too afraid to move or speak. _He had taken care of her?! _she wondered in utter disbelief.

The Phantom looked at her for a moment, then slowly moved his hand towards her face. Meg stiffened, flinched, and turned her head away from him slightly. He drew his hand back slightly, then continued forward anyway, reaching her mask, and pulling it off her face with deliberate gentleness. Meg winced as it happened, her eyes squeezed closed. When she felt it had been removed, she cautiously opened one eye, then the other, turning her head back to look at him squarely in the eye. He eyed her sadly and with a little shame.

"You have no good reason to hide your face," he stated. He reached behind him, an action to which Meg stiffened again. Still watching her cautiously, one hand still on her ice pack, the Phantom slowly pulled out an assortment of French pastries and offered it to her. Meg stared at the plate, feeling no inclination to grab a pastry. The Phantom struggled to repress a sigh and reached across her to put the plate down on the space next to her bed. Meg stiffened again and paled, her eyes widening as she followed the moving hand. He then put the hand tenderly on one of her now-bare feet, to which Meg's foot twitched as she winced again. He looked at her.

"There's water on the table next to you. Please eat and drink. You shouldn't have to suffer like this."

Meg narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.

The Phantom looked a little annoyed at that, but half like he had expected it. Slowly, trying not to alarm her, he rose from the bed. Once again, Meg stiffened and paled.

"I'm going up above again to check up on things," the Phantom said, as he had been saying every day since she had been here. He looked like he wanted to say more, but thought against it, turning away from her and swinging the curtain behind him as he left. Meg was still, listening for the sounds of the gate opening and closing and the swish of the water as the Phantom rowed his boat. When she was certain he had left, Meg slowly took her left hand and removed the ice pack from her wrist. She put it down beside her, examining the damage. Her wrist had swollen up a little, her hand black and blue from where his fingers had gripped it previously. Meg slowly took a pastry from her left hand, and ate one. She was famished. One after another she ate until it was all gone, drinking all the water in the glass. She cursed herself for her actions, imagining what the Phantom might say when he discovered she actually followed orders for once. She cautiously swung her legs over the right side of the bed and stood up.

She observed at the foot of the bed that, along with the outfit that the Phantom had left for her previously, there was also a white nightgown there. Meg didn't want to change out of her dress just yet. Just eating and drinking had been good enough for one day. He'll have to deal with it.

Meg slowly left the room, walking up the organ. She stared at it. She really didn't want to play that instrument at the moment, as the Phantom had played his terrible symphony the night before. She shuddered and walked around the organ. She found another door to the left of the organ. She knew the one to the right was the bathroom, but what was _this_ one?

Slowly, she opened it. She found the kitchen. It was an elaborately decorated kitchen, like every room the Phantom had. There was an ice box and an assortment of food everywhere. Not feeling hungry, Meg walked across the kitchen to the other door she saw. She opened it.

It was a spare bedroom, or rather the _Phantom's_ bedroom now. It was a king-sized bed with black frames, fancy sheets, and drapes that came down over the headrest. Seized with curiosity, Meg tip-toed around the room. It was a nice, spacious room, lined with bookshelves. Meg examined the books and, upon closer inspection, found a bunch of notes stuffed into the extra spaces in between the books. Meg pulled some out. They were from her mother, addressed _Erik_. She carried them to the bed, sat down, and began to read the first one:

_Dear Erik,_

_ I hope living here will suffice for you. It's not much, but it's the best that I can offer at the moment. I know anything must be better than staying at the dreadful circus. If you ever need anything, I'm here for you. I got your last note and I promise not to come near your place._

_ Antoinette _

Meg put down that note and picked up the others, reading them sequentially:

_Dear Erik,_

_ I know we haven't been in touch for a long while, but I just wanted to see how you were. I thought you might like to know that I am happily married now to a man name Jules Giry. He's a very nice young man. We recently had a little girl named Meg. You would like her. She's so sweet._

_ Antoinette_

_Dear Erik,_

_ Thank you for visiting us today. It was a great surprise for Meg's second birthday. She seemed to have taken a liking to you. I think that if you showed her your face, she wouldn't mind it much. She was very curious as to why you wear a mask._

_ Antoinette_

_Dear Erik,_

_ Look, I'm sorry about today! The mirror was cracked open and little Meg ran down all the way to the lake! I couldn't stop her in time! I knew I was never to come close to where you live, but what was I supposed to do?! How dare you threaten me with the life of my daughter if I ever trespassed again! How dare you threaten _her_! She doesn't know any better! If _you_ would take more care as to how you leave things, this wouldn't have happened!_

_ Antoinette._

_Dear Erik,_

_ I have adopted a little orphan today who has just lost her father. Her name is Christine Daae. You may know of her. Her father, Gustave, was a famous Swedish violinist and he and Christine used to come here often. She believes that her father will send her the Angel of Music. I haven't the heart to tell her that he probably meant this metaphorically. She's only eight years old._

_ Antoinette_

_Dear Erik,_

_ Stop this now, Erik! How dare you manipulate Christine like that?! She's only a little girl! Now she believes _you're_ her Angel of Music! If you want to give her lessons, why don't you show yourself instead of deceiving her thus? It's sickening!_

_ Antoinette_

_Dear Erik,_

_ You're disrupting the Opera House, Erik! People are believing there is a ghost here! And yet you continue to threaten me with the life of my daughter! Fine! I won't tell Christine that her Angel of Music is a madman, even though Christine is as much a daughter to me as Meg is!_

_ Antoinette_

_Dear Erik,_

_ You want people to believe you're the Opera Ghost now?! And on top of that, give you twenty-thousand francs a month?! Are you insane?! Of course, I already know the answer to that. I know that if I try to refuse, you'll threaten me again, so of course I'll help you pull this off. But please be careful! We don't want any more of these accidents happening around the Opera house! In a few months, Carlotta will be singing the lead role in Hannibal. We don't want that to be messed up._

_ Antoinette_

"Can I help you?!" said the Phantom forcefully. Meg jumped a foot in the air, dropping the notes. She leapt off the bed and turned to face him, pale, eyes wide. She had been so engrossed in her mother's notes to Er—the _Phantom_— that she hadn't heard him enter. She had been caught red-handed. The Phantom eyed her as she watched him silently, then his eyes lowered to the scattered notes on the floor. He bent down quickly and began picking them up. Meg stiffened but held her position. The Phantom glowered at her.

"Who gave you permission to snoop through my personal items?" he said with deadly calm, "Well?" Meg decided against answering another rhetorical question, so she stayed silent. She fearfully remembered his anger last night and wondered sadly whether or not she would come out of this confrontation unscathed.

The Phantom examined the notes. "Most everything she did, she did for you and out of the kindness of her weak heart."

"My mother," said Meg for the first time, her voice hoarse but firm, "was _not_ weak."

The Phantom looked at her. "If she wasn't, she would have stopped digging herself deeper into the hole she dug herself. Always afraid I would harm you, most everything she's done from then up until this point was done out of fear. If she were stronger, she would ask for help. But she has a stubborn nature, a trait which you share. But her fear wasn't unwarranted; if I really wanted to, I _could_ wring your neck."

"Have you forgotten that you have done that one several occasions since I got here?"

"No, _Miss Giry_, I did not." He brought out his noose. Meg instinctively brought her good hand to the level of her eyes, just as her mother had taught her. The Phantom snorted.

"That's right, Meg. Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! But, one day, you might not be quick enough."

"You seem to go through all this trouble to get me to like you, yet all you do is threaten me with pain. And even when you say you're not going to hurt me, you do anyway. How can I ever trust you?"

He seemed a little surprised at her words. He replaced the noose in his pocket and looked at her sadly and shamefully. He reached out a hand towards her face. Meg stiffened, flinched, and winced all at once. She even moved backwards until she was against the bookshelf. The Phantom slowly walked towards her, hand still outstretched, until he reached her head, stroking it softly, then cupped her cheek in his hand. Meg had closed her eyes, flinched and winced.

"Oh, Miss Giry," said the Phantom's voice, now close to her ear. He was _really _too close for comfort now. _How_ Christine ever found him seductive, she would never know.

"_Little Meg_, I can't even trust myself," and with those haunting words, his hand left and cheek and she heard the door close shut.


	9. Little Meg

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Christine Daae went to Madame Giry's room tentatively. She knew she owed it to her to explain to her how the engagement wasn't broken off. She knocked on the door and opened it, not waiting for an answer.

Madame Giry was sitting at her desk, fixing her braid. When she saw her, she dropped her long braid down her back and stood up. She was pale.

"I thought you had broken it off," she began.

"Let me explain," pleaded Christine.

"No!" yelled Madame Giry. She looked surprised as Christine was at her outburst. "I trusted you! _Meg_ trusted you! Do you even think about others besides yourself, Christine?!"

"Listen to me!" Christine pleaded again, "I didn't want to! I didn't want to take the necklace but Raoul wouldn't listen to me! I couldn't tell him what was at stake or else he'd charge down below after her, or question the Phantom when he'd show up! Besides, the ring seemed pretty hidden to everyone! I wasn't counting on him seeing it! I was going to take it off after the party anyway! Believe me, I love her! She's my best friend! I wouldn't do this to her intentionally! I'm sorry!" She was desperate for her adoptive mother to understand.

Madame Giry looked at her, not without sympathy. She sighed.

"All right, I believe you," she began, "but 'sorry' doesn't change things. You could have told the patron to hold the ring in his pocket. Maybe you would fear breaking it or something. I don't know! You could have made something up! Do you know what he said to me when he visited me today? He said he was so mad at you that he took his anger out on Meg! Her right hand is all bruised and her wrist is swollen! And you know what Meg did? She defended you! She doesn't resent you at all! I'm not sure if I'd act as she did if I was in her place!" she ended angrily.

Christine felt tears well up behind her eyes. "What am I to do then?" she asked desperately.

Madame Giry sighed. "We have to try to make him as happy as possible, whatever it takes to get her back."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Christine walked sadly back to the girls' dormitory, feeling very ashamed of herself. How could she have forgotten Meg so easily? Madame Giry was right to yell at her like that. She deserved it. She walked up the spiral steps and found Raoul leaning against a wooden pole.

"What are you doing here?" she asked a little too harshly.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm here to protect you," he stated matter-of-factly, "in case he comes for you again."

Christine was too tired to argue with him, "That's nice, dear," she said and went into the room. Everyone was sleeping. Meg's bed was still empty as it had been for weeks and weeks now. The bed looked cold and unfriendly. The other dancers were noticing her absence and wondering where she was. She and Madame Giry kept making up stories, knowing Meg's life was at stake if they ratted him out.

Christine lay her bed trying desperately to sleep. After a while, she felt sleep was fruitless, so she got out of bed, and slowly opened the door. Raoul was still there, but he was sitting down, asleep, leaning against the pole. She looked at him sadly. _Does he have a life?_ Christine then thought that maybe _she_ was his life now. With one last look at him, she put her shawl on and went down the stairs.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

After Meg had recovered herself, she had run out of the room as quickly as possible. The Phantom had sat at his organ, playing softly. Meg had run past him and into her room, where she stayed all night. The Phantom didn't disturb her once.

Now it was a few days later. Meg hadn't been sleeping very well, as she'd been having nightmares of the Phantom killing her. Since he was now leaving her alone, she hadn't eaten or drank anything since the disastrous masquerade. She felt dizzy and nauseous. She still hadn't changed out of her dress because she still wanted to defy him. Dark circles that looked like bruises had developed under her eyes and her eyes themselves were bloodshot. She hadn't been bathing either, so of course, she stank. She wondered with grim pleasure if, maybe if she stayed dirty for long enough, the Phantom would return her, just to get rid of the smell.

The Phantom left her a small note. It read:

_Little Meg,_

_If you_ _don't take a damn bath soon, tonight I _will_ make it my first priority to give you one myself. Do you really want to try me on that?_

_Yours Truly,_

_ O.G._

Meg shook her head sadly. As much as she wanted to defy him, she really didn't think it'd be a great bonding moment for them if he stripped her of her clothes and sponged her. It'd be a felony, but no one would be able to prove it. No one would listen. Meg shuddered, feeling goose bumps climb up her arms.

Meg still didn't want to change into the nightgown, so she walked into the bathroom with nothing. Meg went in the bathroom, took off her dress and got in the tub. The Phantom had recently acquired a curtain for the tub, so she pulled it shut, feeling safer. When she was finished, she got out of the tub and reached for her dress, but it wasn't there. Instead, her nightgown was there, folded neatly, ready for her to wear. Meg paled and shuddered. _He is, by far the _creepiest_ man in the country!_ she thought disgustedly. She put the nightgown on, brushed her hair, and left the room.

The Phantom was at his organ again. When he saw her, he half-smiled.

"Was that so hard?" he asked her mockingly, playful light dancing in his eyes.

"You sick man," she spat at him, "that was a dirty trick!"

"It was no trick," replied the Phantom, suddenly solemn, "but I am a man of my word, and you look so much more comfortable in that. Believe me, I'm doing you a favor."

"But you sleep in your clothes, don't you?" She had never seen him wear anything else, except his Red Death costume.

He looked at her like she was stupid. "I may be deformed, _Little Meg, _but I do change when I go to bed."

"Stop calling me that!" she yelled.

"Why not? That's what you are. _Little Meg_. So much like a child. Always putting on a brave face, so frightened of the world. Frightened of me. Naïve enough to not blame your friend for leaving you here, or blame your mother. They try to protect you as they would try to protect a child. They want to shield you from the world and its cruelties, just as your mother did for me. But cruelty is all around us; there's no running from it." He stopped suddenly.

"You're pale," he stated. He stood up quickly and went over to her. Meg flinched and pressed herself against the bathroom door, trying to find the doorknob to open it without turning around. She found it and slowly started to turn it. It was hard turning a doorknob with a swollen wrist and not looking at the door. The door started to open but before she could duck inside, the Phantom grabbed the doorknob with his left hand, pulling it closed, his hand never leaving the knob. He examined her.

"Have you slept recently?" He brought his index finger to her cheek, tracing it lightly. Meg felt her skin crawl. _Danger! Danger!_ her mind shouted. But she couldn't move.

"You look thinner," he said. He put the back of his right hand against her forehead.

"You feel dehydrated," Meg thought this was a shaky analysis coming from a guy with gloves on, but she didn't argue.

He grabbed her left forearm now and was leading her towards the kitchen. "You're having dinner with me," he said in a tone that meant this wasn't up for discussion. He placed her a little roughly in the chair and made up a plate of chicken for him and her. He placed the plate and some water in front of her and sat across from her, watching her eat before he began his own meal. Meg felt awkward. _He_ was awkward. _What the hell?_

"Stop staring at me! I'm trying to eat!" she demanded, avoiding his gaze. He seemed affronted but followed orders. They ate in silence.

"Why do you do this to yourself, _Little Meg_?" he asked.

"You do it to me," she responded, "this is the result of _your_ actions alone. I blame you for this."

"Sure, don't blame your mother or Christine! Blame the creepy guy!" he said with sarcasm. _At least he realizes he's creepy._

"Well, it's true!" She didn't want to admit that he scared her to death on many occasions. He already knew anyway.

"Christine wasn't _nearly_ as bad company."

"_Christine_ wasn't in her right mind at the time. You hypnotize her _just_ by being her Angel."

"She's as much a child as you are, _Little Meg_," She hated him more and more every time he called her that. She wanted to call him _Little Erik_ in response, but considering the first time she was choked and the second time she got an injured wrist, she decided that the odds were that she'd pay for her little comment. So she bit her tongue instead. She felt the veins in her neck pulsing with her irritation.

He was watching her again. She was just about to tell him he'd soon be watching the inside of his eyelids if he kept it up, but he stood up, took his plate and hers, and went to the counter, his back to her. Meg took this as a dismissal. She quickly went to the door.

"Miss Giry," he called to her before her hand had reached the doorknob. His back was still to her. She froze, still looking at the doorknob. _Just a little farther_. But she figured if she tried to leave, it would only be an excuse for him to get closer to her again, so she stayed exactly where she was.

"Come with me," and without looking at her, he left the kitchen and walked into his bedroom. Meg heard the door close and turned her head slowly, looking at the door. Then she straightened up the rest of her body, debating about what to do. She didn't want to find out what would happen if she kept him waiting too long, so she quickly went to the door, opened it, and went inside his room. She left the door open, not wanting to feel like she was trapped. His back was still to her, but he had a book in his hand now. He turned around to face her. He was holding a copy of _Faust_.

"Do you know _Faust_?" He asked. She shrugged. She only knew the name because she saw it on his organ. He sat down on the bed in the very spot where she had sat a few days ago as she read her mother's notes.

"Sit next to me," he ordered. She was surprised but slowly walked towards the bed and cautiously sat down. He began reading to her, just as he would a child. _Little Meg_, he kept calling her._ What's the point of this anyway?_ she wondered. Maybe the opera was good, but she found the book to be really boring and his voice seemed to drone on and on. Meg felt her eyes start to close and forced them open.

_He's…reading me to sleep?!_ she thought, not believing it. But as he droned on and on, she felt herself getting sleepier and sleepier until she couldn't take it anymore and gave in. She hung her head and fell asleep, breathing softly. The Phantom looked up. It had worked. She'd fallen asleep. He saw that she was starting to slip off the bed, so he put the book down beside himself, stood up, and gently lifted her up with one arm. _She's so frail, _he wondered in shock. With the other arm, he pulled back the covers and gently tucked her into bed, being careful not to harm her. She was sleeping soundly. He knew the reason she wasn't sleeping very well was because she was having nightmares. And who could blame her? The Phantom wished she would eat and drink more. As much as her smell was a nuisance when she didn't bathe, it really pained him to see her starve herself. He knew she was trying to punish him and it was working.

Now he continued to look at her sleeping form. She was so peaceful in sleep, with her hair draped around her shoulders. The Phantom changed into his night clothes, took off his mask, and went into bed next to her. He turned to look at her. She looked completely at ease. He hoped she would sleep without nightmares tonight. He gently took a lock of her hair and played with it, letting it dance across his fingers.

_Little Meg_, he thought ruefully, _I do wish things were different between us_, and with that, the Phantom fell asleep next to her, a lock of her hair gently resting on his fingers.


	10. Changes

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Madame Giry was in tears. She was truly frightened now. The last time she had seen her daughter, she had been absorbed by Erik's red cape. She wondered what he could possibly be doing to her now. The last time she had seen her, she had faint bruises on her neck. Madame Giry remembered the first time she noticed those bruises. Meg had only attained them for simply _being_ there. But now, Erik was angry, angry at Christine, angry at the world. There was no telling what he could be doing to her now, or what he had _already _done to her. It had been a few days since that fiasco.

Madame Giry tried to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. It was a weakness to cry. But she was alone in her room, sitting at her vanity table, and she couldn't stop herself. She bowed her head and cried, letting the tears come, her body silently wracked with sobs.

"Meg," she breathed silently through her tears, "Meg, Meg, Meg, Meg, what _have _I done to you, Meg! Oh, Meg." The rest of her words were lost.

A gloved hand was suddenly on her shoulder. Madame Giry gasped and jumped, her head no longer bowed. She could see Erik's reflection in her vanity mirror, looking sadly at her through the mirror. She saw and felt the reflection place a second gloved hand on her other shoulder. Her tears were still flowing down her cheeks and she couldn't stop her body from trembling.

"Antoinette," he said sadly with remorse, "Lord knows what I've put you through."

Madame Giry tried to control her voice, "How is she?"

"I forced her to eat and drink last night. She was also having nightmares. I read her to sleep last night."

"Have you hurt her?"

Erik hesitated.

"_Erik?!" _Madame Giry was about to turn around to face him, but the real Erik's hands pressed down on her shoulders so hard she couldn't move.

"Yes," said Erik sadly, "She has acquired more bruises recently."

Madame Giry's lip quivered but her eyes were fierce and hard.

"_Why?!_" she said harshly.

"It was in my anger," said Erik ruefully, "but I promise never to hurt her again."

"You always say that," Madame Giry spat at him, "I can't trust you."

"My trust appears to be the only thing at the moment that you can fall back on at the moment."

Madame Giry glared at the reflection.

"Have you heard any news about Christine?" said Erik, looking for a change of subject and, at the same time, trying to find out the information he had come up here for.

"Y-yes," Madame Giry stuttered. She _never_ stuttered. Erik raised an eyebrow.

"And?" he implored.

"She has agreed to play the lead role in your new opera, as you have commanded." She made a point of looking at his reflection straight in the eye. She feared he could see into her soul. _He can't know. _

After looking at her for a few moments, Erik nodded finally.

"Then I will send Meg back up to you, before the performance. She will meet you backstage, where she shall remain for the entire performance. Nobody should notice her. If all goes well…" Erik didn't have to complete the statement for her to know what was at stake.

"I understand," she said, her voice firm.

Erik looked at her sadly as he watched a stray tear trickle down her cheek.

"I am going to hell for the way I have repaid you, Antoinette," He slid his hands to her neck, his thumbs on her back. Madame Giry was still trembling slightly.

Erik looked like he wanted to say more to her, but he couldn't find the words. She continued to watch his reflection.

"I am," he said slowly, "_so_ sorry. I know that doesn't change anything, but you deserve to hear it. My dear Anotoinette, I'm so sorry."

Erik crouched down, wrapping his arms around her neck lightly in the form of an embrace. His face was next to hers. They both looked at their reflections silently for a few minutes, then Erik quickly removed his arms and left the room. Madame Giry watched the door open and close in the reflection.

She felt something on her lap. She looked down. A red rose with a black ribbon was there. Madame Giry looked at it in wonderment. _How_ had she missed that?

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Meg woke up, wondering why she felt refreshed. Then she realized she hadn't had even one nightmare the entire night, or even a dream, for that matter. Then her eyes widened as she saw what she was looking at. It was one of the Phantom's bookshelves. Meg then realized this wasn't her bed. She was in the _Phantom's_ bed! Meg sat straight up, heart pounding. Now it was all coming back to her. He had called her _Little Meg_ and had read her _Faust _until she had fallen asleep. Something caught her eye. Meg turned her head to the right.

There was a note addressed to her lying on the extra pillow. She read it. It just told her he had gone up again. _Wait,_ she thought, _if I slept _here,_ where did _he _sleep?_

"I slept next to you, of course," said the Phantom from the doorway. She jumped and gasped. The door was still open from the night before when she hadn't closed it. _Could he read minds?_ Then she registered his words. _Next…to…ME…?!_

The shock of his words must have registered on his face. He rolled his eyes at her.

"What? Did you think you were getting the entire bed to yourself? You know, I wrote that note a while ago. You were sleeping so soundly, it's mid-afternoon. No nightmares last night, I presume?"

She flinched. _How did he know?_

He walked over to her and sat down next to her.

"Your mother…she's really upset at Christine," he began without looking at her, "And she's so worried about you that she was in tears when I went up there. I agreed that you may go up to your mother, since Christine has followed orders by playing the lead."

Meg should have been overjoyed at this. She was happy but she was in shock and a bit skeptical. _He's letting me_ go_? After all this time? And just because my mother cried?_

"What brought this on?" she burst out. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You never cared before whether or not my mom cried. Why now?"

His eyes narrowed. "I expected more gratitude from you, Miss Giry," his voice had an edge to it, "but if you must know, I'm not doing it for you. Christine just happened to be smart enough to make the right choice this time. Be grateful for _that_, _Little Meg_, if anything." He stood up.

"Something has changed about you," Meg stated. She hadn't gotten any new bruises in days. _That's a record,_ she thought dryly.

"The world may have shown no compassion to me, _Little Meg_, but you're a Giry. You don't count."


	11. Corruption

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Meg decided that the Phantom was a more complex character than she initially thought. She still couldn't believe that he was letting her go. She had gone back to her room and changed into those black pants and black boots with that poofy shirt, the outfit that had been laid out for her the first time she woke up here many, many weeks ago. She found a black hair ribbon underneath the clothes and tied her hair back.

And then she waited. Waited for when he would come and get her. She didn't eat or drink, but not out of rebellion this time. She was just too anxious for tonight; her stomach was churning in her nervousness. But despite her nervousness, she was bored. She couldn't play the pipe organ again because the Phantom was playing it and she didn't dare go in his room again to read. In fact, she never wanted to see the inside of that room again. So she sat on her bed, playing with the monkey box.

After a while, something caught her eye. It was an empty sketch pad. Meg remembered seeing various sketches of Christine near his wax doll collection. She found a pencil, flipped the book open, and began to sketch. She didn't really know what she was sketching; her hand seemed to have a mind of its own. She eventually realized she was drawing the Phantom's face. _Is it ironic,_ she wondered, _that I'm drawing the Phantom with my injured hand?_ Her hand was healing nicely though, the swelling had gone down considerably and the bruises were small and brown now, so you could hardly notice them unless they caught your eye.

Meg continued drawing. It was a close-up of the Phantom's face. His wig was on and his black-gloved hand was in the process of removing his mask, so you could see some of his deformity. The one eye that you could see was drawn with a sad, longing look, as if desperate for acceptance. She shaded in some of the sketch and continued drawing, very focused. It seemed important to draw this, all of a sudden, like she was sending out a message.

When she was done, she was satisfied with her work. She seemed to have captured the Phantom's face and his mask just about how she had envisioned it in her head. She was surprised at herself. She never knew she could draw.

She decided to add the finishing touch to her drawing. Beneath the hand that held the mask, she wrote, _In his loneliness, the corruption of the world has distorted Erik, forcing him to find solitude in melodious darkness and those who do not count._

"What have you got there?" demanded a voice she knew too well from the doorway. She jumped only a little bit; it was to be expected that he would find another way to sneak up on her. She looked up at him slowly, reluctantly, as if she had been caught in the act again.

"A drawing," Meg noticed that he was carrying a tray of food and water for her. _Does he truly worry about me?_

"I didn't know you could draw."

"Why would you?" she asked, a little confused.

He set the tray down and walked over to her slowly, examining the picture. Meg tried to move it away without him noticing, but Erik took it out of her hands, gently lest he rip it, before it could be put away. He studied it, his brow furrowed.

"Only a Giry would call me Erik,"

"Only a Destler would call me Little Meg," she countered.

He whipped his head towards her in shock.

Meg even looked shocked.

"M-mother told me a long time ago. I only just remembered," she said quietly.

He shook his head, sighed, and folded up the drawing and put it in his pocket.

"I'm not calling you the Phantom anymore," said Meg boldy. He raised an eyebrow at her statement.

"If I am a Giry, I will call you Erik just as my mother does and there's nothing you can do or say to stop me, Mr. Erik Destler!" she said it a little more forcefully than she had intended but she hoped she had made a point. She also wanted to challenge him. Would he hurt her again? The sudden reprieve from his outbursts unnerved her a little.

He glared at her for a moment, then shook his head in defeat.

"Do as you will, _Little Meg. _It's tiring fighting you all the time since nothing seems to get through that thick skull of yours." Meg was insulted but realized he was permitting her to use his name. She was victorious! Meg was wary though. _He didn't yell? Or hurt me?_

"Come. We must leave now," and with that, they both went into the boat and made their way towards the surface.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Madame Giry was anxious. _Where is she? Where's Meg?_ Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. Erik had his arm around Meg, bringing her to her. She hugged Meg fiercely and thanked Erik. Erik nodded solemnly and left with a swish of his cape.

Madame Giry looked at her, smiling, eyes watery. "I'm so happy you've returned!" But then her smile faded. "I don't if I should hope everything goes as planned tonight or not."

"What do you mean, Mother?"

"Never mind, Meg. Go. You must stay backstage as Erik says you should. Don't let anyone see you." And with that, her mother walked away towards the side of the stage where she could see the performance clearly. The chorus had already started singing the opening for _Don Juan Triumphant_. Meg did her best to keep herself hidden backstage. She sat in a corner of the room where she was concealed by bystanders. Meg sat still and listened to the opera. There was an exchange going on between Piangi and his accomplice, Passerino. Meg shuddered as she listened to the dialogue.

"Poor thing hasn't got a chance!" cried Passerino.

"Here's my hat, my cloak and sword!" cried Piangi, "Conquest is assured! If I do not forget myself and laugh!" He let out and evil laugh and Meg saw him open the curtain and turn around, fiddling with something. Suddenly, a giant shadow leapt on him as Piangi turned around and gasped. His gasp was cut off by a lasso around his neck. Meg gasped and moved from her corner towards Piangi, when the shadow looked at her. It was _Erik_! But his mask was black and smaller. Piangi was still choking.

As Christine sang the words that Meg had once sung at Erik's pipe organ, Erik released Piangi, leaving the lasso on him. He brought a finger to his lips, a smile curling on his lips. Meg was frozen. He then brought the cape over his face and quickly went through the curtain.

Meg stared at the spot Erik had just left, too afraid to move or speak. As she listened to Erik singing, she began to feel more frightened. _He _was in the opera, in place of Piangi! He can get away with anything as long as the audience doesn't find him out!

Meg turned. She saw her mother watching from the side of the stage and saw her put a hand to her stomach, like she was suddenly nauseous. _This can't be good_, Meg thought, panicking, _this is _so _not good._

Meg stood still as the opera went on. Surely Christine must have realized by now that the character Piangi had played was no longer Piangi! But if Christine noticed, she kept performing anyway.

"The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn!" they sang together passionately. Meg couldn't take it anymore. She was too curious. She went over to where her mother was standing. Her mother didn't seem to notice her as she watched in horror.

As Christine and Erik sang the next line, Meg followed her mother's gaze to where the pair had embraced on the bridge. All was quiet. Meg watched the pair with rapt attention.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," Erik sang to Christine lovingly, "Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you'll want me with you here beside you," Christine had opened her eyes and turned to look at him in shock. It was a little shocking that Erik was expressing his love to her so openly, and possibly blowing his cover, but she didn't understand why Christine looked like she saw a ghost, no pun intended. Surely she must have known that he loved her.

"Anywhere you go let me go too! Christine," Erik sang desperately as Christine put a hand on his cheek. _Does she have feelings for him? _

"That's all I ask of—" Erik was abruptly cut off as Christine took his mask and wig off. _That answers my question_, she thought wrly. Everyone screamed. Meg decided to scream too, lest it be too suspicious to stand there unaffected. Her mother did the same. They both ran backstage. Everyone was screaming and running around. Some police officers that Meg hadn't noticed before were trying to run onstage.

Suddenly there was a snapping and breaking sound and people screamed more. Meg ran back to where she was before and truly screamed this time. The chandelier was falling! Meg watched in frozen horror as people screamed and ran as the chandelier crashed with the sound of shattering glass, bursting into flames.

She felt a hand in her hand pulling her in the opposite direction. It was her mother.

"C'mon, Meg!" her mother screamed. Meg quickly ran with her. A crowd of people was running behind her. Her mother let go of her hand. Out of nowhere, it seemed, the Vicomte de Changy appeared.

"Where did he take her?!" he yelled at her mother. _What?! _Meg thought, getting even more panicky, _Christine is GONE?!_

"Come with me, monsieur, I will take you to him! But remember! Keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" her mother instructed him frantically.

"I'll come with you!" Meg told her mother. She knew how awful it had been for Christine the last time she was there. She knew Erik's anger. She also knew that, no matter how horrible he treated her, Christine would truly get the heat of it, for nothing was worse than unmasking him in front of a crowd of people and policemen while he was expressing his love for her and having the chandelier crash, as a result.

"No, Meg, no! You must stay here!" Madame Giry now addressed the patron, "Come with me, monsieur! Do as I say!"

Meg had stopped running and stared after them as they ran through more screaming people. Then as people tried to run past her, she turned around and blocked them.

"No!" she yelled at them. _ It must be only my mother and the Vicomte who go down there! No one else should be put in danger!_

"But, why?!" one of them shouted at her. "We must track down this murderer and rescue Miss Daae! If not, we might all be in danger! And do you expect us to stay here while the opera burns down, stupid girl!" And it was like mob psychology from there, because everyone yelled in agreement and pushed past her, almost trampling her. Meg jumped out of the way, knowing they couldn't be stopped now.

_Mother, hurry!_ Meg silently pleaded as she ran back towards the chandelier to try to find the police.


	12. Compensation

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy.**

Meg was running back through swarms of screaming people, trying to find the police. She knew her mother and the Vicomte couldn't rescue Christine alone. They needed help! She ran onstage.

It was smoky and the chandelier was still burning. Meg found it hard to breathe. Some policemen were dragging Carlotta off of Piangi's dead body as she cried and screamed her love's name. Meg ran to them.

"Girl, get out of here! It's not safe!" one of them said.

"I need your help to find Miss Daae! The Opera Ghost has taken her!" Meg started coughing on the smoke. The heat of the chandelier was becoming unbearable and the flames started rising up the stage, eating away at it.

"Move!" another one shouted, grabbing Meg as a wooden post burned and fell, speeding up the stage's imminent death. Meg was reminded of the opera that had abruptly ended. _When will the flames at last consume us?! _ She watched the bridge burn and fall, engulfed in flames.

"We can't just stand here!" Meg yelled at the officers, "We have to help them!"

"Let's go, then!" yelled a different officer. The officer holding her looked at him in amazement.

"We can't let anyone else go down there! It's not safe!" All of the police officers, including the ones who held Meg and Carlotta, began running away from the chandelier, pulling them with them. The smoke was suffocating.

"We're all going to choke to death if we _don't_ go down there!"

"No! We need to find an exit!"

"Listen to me, please!" Meg pleaded, "Miss Daae's my friend!"

"Let me take her!" said the same officer who had wanted to go with her before, "I'll gather reinforcements!"

Not wanting to argue any further while the chandelier was still burning the opera down, the officer holding Meg captive released her and ran off with the other officer. Meg and her officer ran off in the direction her mother and the patron had gone. They found other officers and other people as they were running and enlisted their help. Quickly, they followed Meg, running towards Christine's dressing room.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Flames were erupting everywhere, spreading throughout the opera house like wildfire. Christine's dressing room and the area around it was unharmed, though, so Meg quickly ran to it. The door was wide open, as was the mirror. No one seemed to be trying to keep Erik's lair a secret, anymore.

"This way!" she shouted to the officers as they followed her through the passageway. Thinking ahead this time, Meg grabbed one of the remaining torches from where it was on the wall and swiftly ran down each corridor, with the little crowd in tow.

She made her way quickly down the steps. When she reached the lake, she doused her torch in it, as the larger crowd from before was holding their torches, standing in the narrow lake path where the boat had traveled. They saw her.

"It's a dead end!" one of them shouted to the other crowd.

Meg pushed through them to the front of the crowd, splashing through the dirty water. _How could that be?! I know I went the right way!_ But they were right. There was a wall at the end of the narrow lake pass, like there had never been a lair.

"What do we do?!" another one shouted.

"We wait," Meg commanded, "Someone must have set off a trap; that's why it's here. What goes up must come down."

They only waited for about five minutes when the wall suddenly slammed down. Some of the crowd was leaning on it and fell into the water in surprise. Meg looked ahead and saw the Vicomte steering the boat, drenched, with Christine on it, in a wedding dress. Meg once again thought of the dummy and shuddered. _What must it have taken to have escaped from there?_

"Christine!" Meg shouted, "Are you guys alright?! Where's my mother?!"

"We're fine, Meg!" Christine shouted back at her. She seemed confused and panicky at Meg's last question, but the patron answered for her.

"She's fine, Miss Giry!" he shouted to her, "She led me here up until a certain point, but didn't dare come any farther."

Meg thought of one of her mother's first promises to Erik and shivered. She also felt somewhat touched. _After everything that's happened today, she's still trying to protect me._

"I'm going in there!" she said to no one in particular. Even though Christine was safe, she felt that she needed to see Erik. Besides, she didn't come all this way to _not_ go in that lair!

"We'll come with you!" someone from the small crowd she had brought said. With Meg in the lead, they ran to the lair.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

When they arrived, Meg was in shock. All the mirrors were smashed and one of them only had the frame left. _Just_ what_ had happened here?! _ she wondered.

She ran up the rock, leaving her little crowd behind. For some reason, she felt the need to explore, and also to find Erik. The crowd seemed to want the same thing.

She ran to the smashed mirrors, looking this way and that, then was about to run up to the bedroom, when a hand grabbed her arm and another hand covered her mouth and she was hauled inside the mirror. Meg's eyes widened and struggled a little. Then she realized it really couldn't be anyone else _but_ him.

She was right. She came face to face with Erik, his hands still holding her captive. He looked so sad. He was still without a mask and with a white, poofy shirt on. _What is it with guys and those shirts?_

"Miss Giry," he whispered, "why have you brought them here?"

"I didn't bring _all_ of them here," she whispered back defensively when he had put down the hand that had been covering her mouth, "I only brought_ some _of them here. Besides, Christine was in danger!"

"She was never in any danger," whispered Erik, "In fact, I've hurt you a lot more than I've hurt her. All I did was love her, but she chose _him_ instead,"

"You let them go?"

"She kissed me," Erik stated. Meg was surprised, "No woman had ever kissed me before. My own mother didn't even hug me."

"And you know what Christine said to me, Meg, before she kissed me?" Erik continued, "She told me that it's in my soul that the true distortion lies. I thought of you," He pulled out the folded drawing from his pocket.

"You and your mother have always shown me such kindness, more than I deserve. I can never thank you enough for that,"

"But we don't count," Meg stated dryly.

"You count for something, _Little Meg_," and, putting the drawing back in his pocket, hugged her tightly. Meg was shocked and she stiffened, then she relaxed in his arms and even hugged him back. She realized that, despite everything he had done, she had grown to care for him, just as her mother cares for him. She felt bag of something drop into her pocket. He released her.

"Small compensation for you and your mother," he said with a small smile, "Now take my mask and go! Tell everyone I'm dead! Don't let them find me! " and he pushed her out of the frame.

Meg was a little disoriented. She didn't know where his mask could be. She decided to check his bedroom anyway. The crowd was exploring every inch of the lair, but they hadn't come up to the bedroom yet. When Meg reached it, she found her...er…_his_ spare room exactly the way she had left it, except, on the table where the monkey box was, the mask lay beside it.

Meg went over to the mask, crouched down, picked it up, and studied it for a moment. This mask was a symbol for everything that had happened. Surely, they'll believe he's dead if he's without a mask.

Meg stood up and suddenly remembered the lump in her pocket. She took it out. It was a bag of coins. By the weight of it, she judged it was about three month's worth of Erik's salary. Meg smiled slightly.

_I've always wanted to go to Coney Island,_ and with that, she turned and went out of the bedroom.


	13. Epilogue: Not By Much

**Nothing is mine. Hope you enjoy,**

Erik waited until everything grew silent. He had listened to Meg explaining to the crowd that he was dead and listened to their retreating footsteps. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped out of the mirror. Everything was calm, as it was before any of this had happened, save for the smashed mirrors. Tears streamed down his face again.

He knew the compensation he gave Meg would never be enough to repay them for their kindness. But it was the closest he could get. Slowly, he went up to Meg's…his room and went inside. He realized now that, with her gone, he didn't have to use the spare bedroom anymore. He was sad that he had lost Christine, Meg, and Antoinette in the same night.

He walked over to the bed and saw the food and water that was left on it, now going bad. He had forgotten about it. He had rushed Meg to the boat and totally forgot the reason why he was in the room in the first place as he had watched her draw that picture of him. He took that drawing out from his pocket again and looked at it. Besides his mask, no one had ever given him a gift before. True, she _was_ trying to hide it away but he thought he had a right to own it, as it was drawn on _his _paper with _his_ pencil about _him _without _his _permission.

There were a lot of things he never realized about Meg. She was as talented at drawing as Christine was at singing. Erik remembered the first time he had seen _Little Meg_. She was only two and she was such a happy child, and Antoinette looked young and happy too. Erik thought of the way he had treated Meg and shuddered, in spite of himself. How could he have been so cruel? Antoinette, with her loving nature, had _always_ been there for him, even from the beginning when he was in that terrible circus.

"She saw my loneliness," Erik said to himself, "Shared in my emptiness. No one would listen. No one but her. Hurt as the outcast feels."

Erik put the drawing on the wall of his room. Unlike the sketches he had drawn of Christine, this one was more special and deserved to be put in a special place. When he was done, he looked at it and smiled a little.

"You may end up counting for something," Erik said, "but not by much. You're a Giry."

**That's it. I hope you enjoyed the story that I had originally intended to be a one-shot. Thanks for following and reviewing and stuff!**


End file.
